


Paper Napkins

by Flammenkobold



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Drinking & Talking, F/F, Missing Scene, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-07 21:42:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15228459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: Melanie and Basira talk. Set after Ep108.





	Paper Napkins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boudour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boudour/gifts).



She draws a symbol on the paper napkin, whispers a few words to it and hopes that it works. The book she had found said it should, as symbolisms and words mean more than the medium they are carried on. It doesn’t feel like anything has changed though. At least not for her. Melanie however rubs the back of her neck, absentmindedly, as if chasing away the ghost of a cobweb. 

_ Huh _ , Basira thinks, _ I guess we’ll see if that really worked.  _

“What’s that then for?” Melanie asks, eyeing Basira’s drawing critically. The stylized and crudely drawn eye looks back at her unblinkingly. 

Basira shrugs. “It’s supposed to protect against whatever is watching us.” She doesn’t need to say Elias or whatever thing he serves. The text merely said the All-Seeing Eye. From what information Basira could gather this seems to be the best bet on what she has gotten herself involved in; from the moment she stepped into the Institute to interview Jonathan Sims, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of her neck as if someone was watching her.

Melanie knows the feeling too, she’s gathered from all the cocktail hours they shared, Tim does too and probably wouldn’t stop ranting about it if she let him, and Martin has made a non-committal sound the one time she brought it up and his quietness had been more telling than most of his words would do. 

“Wouldn’t that be more helpful for watching us?”

Basira takes a nip from her cocktail, choosing her words. “Think of it like wards against the Evil Eye. They’re supposed to reflect harm back to the one who does it, right?”

Melanie hums, takes a sip of her own from her beer. “Do you think that that superstition is based on whatever Elias is drawing his power from?” She has a glint in her eye, as if she is ready to get herself lost in chasing down a theory. Basira feels her own excitement bubble up again over finding out something new. This is what drew her to police work in the first place, taking clues and matching them together and following them to their conclusion. It isn’t why she is here, though, she needs to remind herself.

“Maybe,” she says carefully. “But this isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about and I don’t know how well or how long this lasts.” Basira waves the napkin for emphasis and right away Melanie’s demeanour changes. 

Her body language becomes guarded and her face closed up. Like she knows already what this is about, like she can sense it. Melanie is always abrasive and brash and hard to get too, but Basira has no time to treat carefully now and sometimes the best way is right through the middle of a wall. She learned that much with Daisy.

So she says bluntly, “What’s going on?” 

Melanie opens her mouth to protest. 

“No, I know something is, you’ve been...less you in the past week. And hell, even Martin noticed through his ‘Jon’s alone in America’-worries.” 

Melanie rolls her eyes. “Great, that’s really not what I hoped for when we said he needs to focus his fussing elsewhere.” She takes a long gulp from her beer. “Where’s he anyway, if he’s so worried?”

Nice try, Basira thinks, but she is not letting Melanie get away so easily with changing the topic.

“I thought you’d be less inclined if we ganged up on you,” she admits. Sometimes truth might get you somewhere and she really did feel that Martin might have made things more complicated and Melanie even more clamped up than she already is. Besides, this spell she used - for lack of better term -  is not something she wants to entrust Martin with yet.

“Thanks.”

“Spill,” she says in the same tone that tends to work on Daisy, soft enough to not be command, but firm enough to not be mistaken as a request. “I’ll buy the next round if you do.”

Melanie rolls her bottle between her hands, takes another sip, probably considers her options. Then she points at the paper napkin again. “You’re sure this works?”

“Yes.” Basira doesn’t, but Melanie doesn’t need to know that.

Melanie finishes off her beer in a way that tells Basira she needs more soon and preferably something stronger to go down with it. She’ll call over the waiter later and for now pushes her own drink over to Melanie.

“He’s a fucking asshole shit bastard dickweasel, is what happened!” bursts out of her. “Elias,” she adds for clarification, though Basira could’ve guessed as much.

“What did he do,” Basira asks, using the same tone of voice she might have with an official victim.

Melanie looks to the side, her jaw clenched, blinking furiously for a second. Basira already feels the need to clench her hands into fists on Melanie’s behalf, but years of training - both in and outside the police - keep her from doing it. 

“Did I, did I ever tell you about my Dad?” Melanie asks.

“Not yet,” she says carefully.

Melanie gives a half laugh, half bitter snort. “He died years ago. Fire. In his care home. At least I thought so.” Melanie angrily wipes a hand over her face and grabs the glass Basira has pushed over and downs it. “Hoped so.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” It’s an ingrained reply and Basira has learned to make it sound more heartfelt than the empty line it is. She doesn’t know what this is truly about but she has the feeling that they’re getting there, so she gives Melanie the time to collect herself and continue.

“It’s fine. It was fine. But now I know that’s not what happened,” Melanie says and her breath hitches. “Because he apparently can dump information in here,” she says and taps a finger hard against her forehead. “Because that’s a thing that can happen in our world,” Melanie continues and her voices goes high and a bit too loud and a bit too panicky. “And if I don’t do my job or try to murder him again, he’s going to make sure that I can see it too.” 

This new information is far worse than Basira thought, but she has no time for worry, so she takes that knowledge of what Elias’ powers include and neatly files it away in her own mind.

“Hey,” Basira says and leans over the table, grabs Melanie’s hand and holds it tightly in her own, refocuses Melanie’s attention to her. “Fuck him,” she says and Melanie lets out a broken laugh. “We’ll work this out.” Basira keeps her voice calm and steady and puts all the conviction in she doesn’t have.

Melanie takes another ragged breath and gives her a weak nod.

“And I think more drinks are in order.” Melanie’s laugh is a lot more surer at that. 

“God knows I could do with a few more.”

So Basira orders, keeping one hand on Melanie’s forearm.

_ I’m going to make sure that he ends up dead _ , she thinks. There is no heat behind her decision, no urgency. It’s a simple fact.


End file.
